Right Where It Belongs
by Resoan
Summary: Semi-AU, nonbender!Amon, got his powers from spirits, one-sided!Amorra. Amon's sanity is slowly cracking as he leads the revolution against the benders. He's hallucinating, and his visions typically take the form of the avatar. When he meets her in person, though, she refuses to conform with the shade he's imagined for so long. Illusion Prompt for Amorra Week.


"Right Where It Belongs"

Synopsis: Semi-AU, nonbender!Amon, got his powers from spirits, one-sided!Amorra. Amon's sanity is slowly cracking as he leads the revolution against the benders. He's hallucinating, and his visions typically take the form of the avatar. When he meets her in person, though, she refuses to conform with the shade he's imagined for so long.

This was written for the second day of Amorra Week, based on the prompt of Illusion. The title actually comes from the song I was listening to whilst writing the fic, though this is no songfic.

* * *

The Equalist base was a veritable hive of activity, in-uniform chi-blockers traipsing throughout the labyrinthine corridors with assorted crates and boxes from Hiroshi Sato's latest delivery. The older man hadn't come along with his shipment, though Amon doubtlessly realized he had his own problems and difficulties in keeping his Equalist ties secret, especially with a daughter who was an outward bender-supporter.

The thought created an unattractive scowl on Amon's lips, though it was invisible to any beneath his mask; the Lieutenant was at his heels as he walked, the man mumbling something Amon didn't bother trying to decipher. Everything was going according to schedule, and soon the benders of Republic City would be kneeling at his feet, begging helplessly for him to spare their bending as the pro-bending cheater from the championship had. He would show them no mercy, and he could practically taste their fear as he imagined them realizing that beseeching him was fruitless and a waste of their energies.

"Contact Sato. Alert him of our next move. Make sure he is aware of the Council's intentions and the avatar's whereabouts." Amon's command was stated in a slate-like tone, the Lieutenant inclining his head in understanding before leaving Amon's side. Amon paused for a moment, the hallway now void of all people save for himself; pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead, Amon was not surprised to see the avatar suddenly appear at his side, her hand perched on her hip and her lips quirked at one side.

Lips pursing, Amon looked away: his eyes trying to focus on anything that wasn't the one person whom he despised the most in the entire city. "Oh, sure. You despise me all right, Amon. That's why you can't stop thinking about me," Korra's tone was teasing, her touch light against the bare skin of his hand.

"You aren't real," Amon muttered quietly, Korra's guffaws of laughter ringing hollowly in his ears.

"Of course I am," Korra murmured, closing in on Amon's position and leaving hardly any distance between them. "I'm the only thing that's real." Her breath was hot against his ear, Amon's heart-rate beginning to quicken despite himself. "It must be terrible, living a lie to all your followers," Korra then continued, her wicked hands toying with the flimsy string keeping his mask in place. "Wanting the one person you can never have, the one person they all detest more than anyone else." Her tone turned breathy, her fingertips brushing through a few stray strands of his hair.

Amon swallowed then, his eyes squeezing together tightly in a failed attempt to shut her out and keep her from invading his mind. "Too late. I'm already here," Korra's voice was akin to a siren song, Amon's teeth biting into his lower lip and ultimately drawing blood. Just as Amon opened his mouth to retort, one of his followers appeared around the corner, Korra's shade immediately dissipating as the chi-blocker paused mid-step and stared at him oddly.

"Keep moving." Amon's voice was steely, angry, and clearly agitated, but the underling understood that now was not the time to question Amon about it. Korra's triumphant laughter erupted in his ears, the taste of blood on his lips suddenly much more bitter and his clenched fist aching painfully. _I __**will**__ conquer you, Avatar. You will beg me for your life. _It would only be Amon's rotten luck that he would actually consider acquiescing to Korra's appeal.

* * *

"You are disquiet, human." The Spirit's question was phrased in the form of a statement, and Amon did not flinch when the Spirit turned to him suddenly.

"The Avatar...she vexes me," Amon replied somewhat feebly, the Spirit contemplating the man's implication before replying.

"Elaborate."

Of all the things the Spirit could have demanded of him, Amon did not want to touch that particular topic; she haunted him: not content to remain hidden in his nightmares, she appeared at his side during his waking hours, looking not-at-all ethereal and causing physical sensation as well. It was an unsettling feeling, and one that was most unwelcome.

"I see her form when she is not truly there. I feel her touch, her warmth, and yet there is nothing physical of her present to give such...sensation." The explanation was more than a little humiliating for Amon to expound upon, but the Spirit did not waste time on judgment, instead looking for a solution to the problem.

Before Amon could even blink, the Spirit had grasped his chin and stared unflinchingly into his eyes; the sensation was piercing, bitingly so. The Spirit was looking into his very core, his very being; it pulled away moments later, its silence enough for Amon to discern that it had learned nothing of use from him. "This is not the avatar's doing, but your own. I cannot help." The dismissive tone of finality was what made Amon nervous, but the Spirit was not quite finished speaking. "You must dispose of the avatar, and soon: lest you lose your way, and your cause disintegrates under your feet."

A moment later Amon awoke in the real world, Korra's blue eyes blinking mischievously down at him; "Miss me?"

The second and final jarring into reality was what had Amon heaving for much-needed air, his face entirely soaked from sweat. _It is time, avatar. Ready yourself._ Now was the time for action. No more would Amon be subject to her and her cursed charms. He would end her, or meet his own end in the attempt.

* * *

The Equalist attack on Republic City was swift, brutal, and absolutely thorough; the avatar fled into the sewers with her few companions, though she would emerge, given enough time and proper incentive. Her presence at his side was now constant, her verbal jabs and criticisms easily ignored, though her fleeting, physical provocations were much more difficult to endure.

Their showdown occurred at the pro-bending arena, his army of chi-blockers easily overcoming her companions as he ordered them that the avatar was his, and his alone. _He_ would be the one to incapacitate her, to slay her. "You won't get away with this!" Korra shouted hatefully, her arms poised in front of her in what was doubtlessly a fire-bending stance.

"So sure of myself, huh? Is that why I'm always in your thoughts?" the shade tended to interrupt his thinking rather frequently, Amon glowering in Korra's direction.

"On the contrary, Avatar. I will be free today, one way, or another," Amon stated matter-of-factly, her lips pursing as she shot a few fireballs in his direction.

"Or maybe, you just like my _fiery_ spirit. You always did like a challenge, didn't you?" the shadow continued to murmur, her hands running down his arms and her chest pressing against his back. "You want to subdue me, make me _scream_." Amon's resolve cracked at that, images flashing through his mind uninhibitedly.

Korra came in close, her arms expertly bending water from beneath the arena and sending a deluge in Amon's direction; the lack of distance, however, only made Amon more aware of her scent, her body, and the sinful curves under her clothing. After a few, quick jabs in succession, Korra fell to the ground, Amon's body tensing and trembling as he looked down at her prone form.

"Look at me," the shade pointed to Korra, the smile on her face predatory. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Amon considered the question, the man finally taking a step forward and bending down to Korra.

"S-stay away from me!" Korra tried to muster some of that old spunk, but her words were feeble, more akin to sparks than flames.

"Do it. You know you want to," Korra's voice whispered tantalizingly into his ear, Amon's teeth grinding as his hand reached out and grasped Korra's forearm unconsciously.

"Kill me." Amon managed to gasp out his request, Korra's blue eyes wide with disbelief. "I would rather die a man than live a monster." He didn't expect her to understand, but he hoped she wouldn't have any qualms with doing so. His grip on her forearm only tightened the longer he waited, Korra's eyes still wide but filling with confusion and anger, much to his surprise.

He didn't know who did it, or how it happened, but Korra's shade finally began to disappear as he slumped forward, Korra's arm falling from his grasp. His name spilled from her lips as in a mantra, her strong hands shaking him in an attempt to reanimate him. His lips tugged into the most minuscule of smiles before his eyes shut and he ceased to be.

"You have failed." The Spirit sounded so incredibly angry, Amon feared it for all of a moment, but he soon realized: he was dead now. What could the Spirit do to him now?

"Correct." For some reason, though, Amon couldn't bring himself to care all that much.


End file.
